


Vulgar Plants and Bad Poetry

by scurvaliciousbay



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Flowers, Fluff, Poetry, Prompt Fill, Romance, Wooing, courting, fenris tries, he really does
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 06:44:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7966567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scurvaliciousbay/pseuds/scurvaliciousbay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompted on tumblr for Fenris wooing my Hawke!</p>
<p>Fenris wants to show Katra how he feels about her but struggles a bit with the execution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vulgar Plants and Bad Poetry

Fenris was always the last to fall asleep, even when it was just him and Hawke in her gigantic estate and he knew he was safe. It was an old habit, one that he didn’t like to examine overly much, but it did give him little opportunities to read and watch Katra sleep, which was always nice. 

She had her naked body curled up against his, her face almost completely hidden by her curtain of red curls. He reached down and pulled gently on one, watching it spring back into shape. A smile spread across his face as he leaned down and pressed an affectionate kiss to her hair. 

She was so beautiful, and there were times where he still couldn’t believe that she had decided to give him another chance, to let him back into her bed and into her heart. He didn’t know, even still, if he was worthy of her time but he strove to be. 

He returned to his book, piecing the letters and words together. He had improved much over the last few years, but he still struggled somewhat. But this was his twenty-fifth book he was reading on his own and that…that made it worth it. Katra told him that he shouldn’t demean his success based on the success of other people, which was…surprisingly wise of her. 

The book was actually a Fereldan tale of manners, of a man trying to woo a woman so that she will marry him. He employed many techniques, buying her flowers, reading her poetry, buying her things, all to win her affections, but in the end he realized that he simply needed to be honest with her about his affections. 

_As it was custom of Ferelden gentlemen, Bennett procured her flowers and flowing poetry to express his emotions and intent._

Fenris’s face drew together in contemplation at the particular line. As it was custom…this was Fereldan wooing. 

He looked back down to his beautiful Hawke. She was of Ferelden, proudly so. She had taken care to keep her accent and even wearing more Fereldan fashions. 

And according to this book it was traditional, expected, for men to woo women, it was…how they showed affection. Hmm. Fenris didn’t view himself as an overly affectionate person to begin with, he believed that ability had long been stripped of him but he didn’t want Katra thinking that he didn’t care for her. Because he did, a great deal.

He looked back down at the sleeping woman and felt himself pulled. Not tugged or forced but more…he _wanted_  to make her feel she was desired, that he held great affection for her.

He set the book aside and shifted more under the blankets until his arms were wrapped around her. She grunted and shifted herself until she was more curled on top of him. He chuckled and kissed her forehead. Beautiful woman, what had he done to deserve her?

**

The next day Hawke was busy with important Champion business, which meant she had to supervise some awful meeting between Meredith and Orsino. He did not envy her job for one moment and this gave him the opportunity to explore this whole wooing thing. 

He contemplated asking Varric, but he’d probably tell Hawke or lie…or both. Anders was also of Ferelden but…no. He was uninterested in asking that abomination for anything whatsoever. 

Merrill was Dalish and most likely unfamiliar with human courting techniques. 

Isabela would suggest sex like she always did. Or maybe not. But she was also libel to tell Katra what was happening too. 

There was Aveline, who was of Ferelden, not possessed by a demon, and understood the necessities of secrecy -

_It’s a nice night for an evening._

Right. Not asking Aveline.

This line of thinking led him to the Chantry, Sebastian was raised a prince, he would know how to do this. 

“Hello, and be welcome in His Light and Her Love.” One of the Chantry sisters greeted him at the front and he nodded his thanks. He sent a quick prayer and thank you to the large statue to Andraste before asking for Sebastian. 

He thanked the sister and went to find the man at the back. 

“Fenris, what a surprise! Are we heading out? I thought Hawke was busy today.” Sebastian said and Fenris shifted on his feet.

“She is busy tending to the mages and Templars, that is not why I am here.”

“Oh, did you come to give thanks to the Maker? I could teach you a new prayer or verse of the Chant if you wish.”

“Thank you, but that is also not why I am here. I…wished your opinion and advice on something.” 

“Oh, that is unexpected, what did you wish to discuss?”

Fenris shifted again and quickly explained the book he was reading and wanting to do something for Hawke. Sebastian smiled broadly.

“That is wonderful, my friend. It is always good to show the ones you love how you feel.” Sebastian said and Fenris shrugged. He wouldn’t say that he…. but he cared for her, he didn’t wish to be apart from her and his heart was hers, freely given. And he was free to take it back if he wanted, he knew that. 

They made to leave the Chantry when Sebastian was called over to take over confessions for the day. Fenris told him to go, that he would handle this on his own, he had a vague idea anyways what he should get.

Flowers and poetry, how difficult could that be?

Apparently _very_  difficult. There were what appeared to be a thousand different types of flowers lining the flower market street, all different colors and shapes and meanings. Finding the right one would be like picking a needle out of a hay stack. 

He walked along the paths slowly, examining the flowers to the best of his capabilities. Some were rounded, some more sharp, and some of them just struck him as strangely vulgar. But…Katra liked vulgar things, her book collection was a testament to that. 

Vulgar…flowers. Yes, that sounded acceptably Katra-esque, he thought. He found a flower that had been popular in Tevinter, long and almost phallic looking, particularly the pink one. He pointed at the pot and the florist nodded as she quickly created an arrangement for him. Her eyes were soft as she handed to him.

“My condolences,” she said, which was rather odd, he thought. Did she think he was using these flowers to apologize? He knew that some men liked to use gifts to secure forgiveness, but he was not that sort of man. He…rarely apologized. Real apologies for him were difficult, but he tried, mostly for Katra and mostly to continue to distance himself. 

Right, well. With flowers out of the way, he had only need to procure some poetry for her. He read that creating poetry was much better than buying it but he was no poet. But…Katra deserved the best, so he could at least try his hand at it.

He returned to her estate and began to try and think of something that sounded vaguely poetic and nice.

_Katra Hawke,_

_Like a bird you soar,_

_But you don’t shit on people -_

No, he was pretty certain that mentioning shit was not characteristic of a romantic poem.

_Katra Hawke,_

_Feline and avian,_

_You know how to manipulate staves very well_

His brow furrowed. Too raunchy.

_Katra,_

_She who has given me my own heart_

_as if she was the one once a lyrium branded slave -_

No.

_Katra,_

_I offer to you my heart as if ripped from my own chest_

_On a platter_

_For you to dine on._

Apparently she was now a cannibal.

This…was surprisingly difficult. How did poets do it? He rubbed at his face only to curse when he realized he had ink on his hand. Fenedhis. 

He spent the rest of the afternoon working on the poem but not getting much further. The door clicked open and Katra’s unmistakable footfalls and exaggerated sigh echoed throughout the main level. Magical lungs, he reminded himself, it’s just what happens.

She strode into the library, shucked of her coat, hair newly loosed from the tight arrangement she had it in from this morning. Her eyes were tired and her body slumping and she moved to him. 

“Today sucked donkey shit,” she grumbled as she leaned against him, nuzzling into his neck.

“You should not have to insinuate yourselves between those two.”

“If I don’t, who will? And then where will we be? Mass chaos doesn’t sound like fun when there are fireballs and mass magical neutrality nets being cast.” Oh she was serious tonight, that was never a good sign. But perhaps…

“I…got you flowers. Here,” he said, gesturing to the pot on the table. She shifted against him and looked at them.

“Pink orchids?” She said, moving to touch them. 

“I thought they were vulgar enough to appeal to you.”

“…Oh, well. They’re lovely.” She turned back to him and kisses his cheek. He tried to cover the pitiful poetry attempts and how his hand writing still left much to be desired.

“Is that…poetry?” She moves, trying to take a closer look at all the parchment around Fenris. He flung his arms over it and pulled them away.

“These are mine.” He said quickly and she backed off immediately.

“Alright, I’m going to go make bread, it’s just been that kind of day,” she kissed his cheek and walked to the kitchen.

…

That did not go as he had planned. In the book, the woman had fallen into the knight’s arms with happiness, peppering his face with kisses in gratitude.

There were no kisses. 

Scowling, Fenris picked up the pot of orchids and followed her into the kitchen. 

“Did you not like the flowers?” He asked. She turned to him, still fastening the apron around her waist.

“Oh, no! They’re beautiful, pink orchids.” She said and he narrowed his eyes. She wasn’t telling him something.

“What is wrong with them?” 

“Nothing!” She continued to assert.

“Hawke…”

“I mean, they may be typically used for funerals but -

“What?” He said in surprise. _Funerals_?? He was giving her flowers that are traditionally give to the dead? She flinched but nodded. He looked down at the flowers and set them aside. Well. Then they are extremely inappropriate funeral flowers considering how phallic they appear. 

“I apologize, I did not know.”

“Fenris! There’s no need to apologize, they’re beautiful and you didn’t know.” But he continued to scowl and she sighed. She did not understand. He wanted to do something nice for her, to make her feel or understand the depths of his feelings for her. 

Instead he gave her funeral flowers.

“You know, they’re completely wonderful. We are…mourning the loss of a potentially wonderful day! We could have spent it in bed all day, being lazy fucks and fucking. Instead, duty called. It was horrible.” She placed took her hands in his and leaned up to kiss his cheek.

Hmmph. He supposed she was correct, they very well could have spent the entire day in bed having sex. But he wanted to do more for her than just give her a few good orgasms. Slaves gave orgasms. He…wanted to give affection. 

He turned his face to capture her lips in a long kiss. Tomorrow, he would get her better flowers. 

**

He returned to the flower market the next day after finding a book hidden in the back of Katra’s bookshelf on different flower types. Roses. Roses were typical for affection, so he procured red ones that reminded him of her hair, soft and bright, like the favor he wore around his wrist. 

This time the florist winked at him and he felt much more confident in his selection. He considered the poetry route again but decided against it, no poems existed that could properly capture their relationship and they would be thick with words they do not say. And seeing as he was incapable of writing anything that actually sounded palatable…

He headed back to her estate, where she had decided to linger in bed all day. He told her that he wanted to attend one of the services at the Chantry and he did dip in at one point so say hello to Sebastian, so it was not a complete lie. 

He was halfway back to her estate when he saw the wine merchant Katra loved was back in town. On impulse, Fenris walked over and procured her favorite Cabernet and Pinot Noir. He paid the merchant handsomely and walked back to the home. 

He climbed the stairs to her room and bent down to kiss her on the cheek, rousing her enough to show her the roses.

“Good morning,” he kissed her again and she sighed, lifting her face to sniff at the roses.

“Mm, beautiful, and oooh, what do you have there?” She angled her head for the wine but he kept it out of her reach.

“That is for later,” he set the bottles to the side and began to unbuckle his gauntlets and armor, “now…now I am going to show you exactly how I feel.” And then he climbed on top of her, to her beautiful laugh, kissing her shoulders and neck.

He was not a slave, but he could give her orgasms and affection, and he would not have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Please leave kudos, comments, etc. <3 I'm scurvgirl on tumblr btw <3 :)


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